


to the victor go the spoils

by ohlawsons



Series: mass effect fic [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Mass Effect 1, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlawsons/pseuds/ohlawsons
Summary: From working on a small farm on Mindoir to serving aboard one of the Alliance's most advanced warships, Calliope Shepard has always lived by the same simple motto: speak softly, carry a big stick, and celebrate at every chance you get.She's not about to let a little thing like the impending destruction of the galaxy ruin her tried-and-true approach to life.[ Shoker. Updates Sundays. ]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> theoretically, this will be a shoker-centric collection of chronological one-shots spanning mid-me1 to me3, with a few au bits towards the end. i've written ahead, so hopefully i can have updates out every week or two.
> 
> huge thanks to @reagans-ramblings on tumblr for beta reading and basically being the entire reason this fic exists.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Joker looked up as Kaidan sat beside him, sliding one beer over and keeping the second for himself. He punctuated his statement with a pointed look back towards the dance floor, and Joker followed his gaze to where Ashley and Shepard were still dancing together.

So he’d been staring. It was hard  _ not  _ to.

For one thing, it wasn’t everyday the two of them were so completely  _ relaxed _ , and that alone would’ve been enough to hold his attention. Ashley moved in perfect rhythm with the music, face flushed and grinning widely — she had a great ass, and she knew it — but Calliope, for all that she was typically the picture of grace, just looked  _ uncomfortable _ . Joker had to wonder just how many times she’d even been to a big club like Flux; everyone knew the story the Alliance pushed, of the farm-girl-turned-N7 —  _ turned-Spectre _ ; the Alliance would have to update their recruitment ads — but he also knew she’d been off Mindoir for a long time.

“Thanks for letting me know you think I don’t have a chance with either of them.” Joker rolled his eyes, taking a slow sip of his drink before adding, “Watching people dance is a habit of mine.” He still wasn’t sure why he’d even let Calliope talk him into joining them in the first place; he agreed that the ground team needed a good night out after the shit they’d seen on Feros, and the  _ Normandy  _ was due for some simple routine maintenance anyway, but there were dozens of better ways to spend his evening — and most required less walking.

“Right, sorry.” It was Kaidan’s turn to stare, now — not at Ashley and Calliope, but at a man behind them — and it was a moment before he pulled his attention back to Joker. “And I didn’t mean… Well, you know how it is.”

Joker nodded, eyes once again fixated on the two women; he caught Calliope’s gaze and looked away, turning to Kaidan and giving a shrug. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not interested.”

It was only partly a lie. He _was_ a little bit interested, had been ever since his brief first meeting with Shepard back on Vancouver, the week before Eden Prime. She hadn’t even been in uniform then, with her blue jeans and strawberry-blonde curls and that wry little smirk that tended to disappear when she was on duty; but she was his commander, and they both had their duties, and it was ultimately just a passing fancy that was easy enough to quash.

Repeatedly. 

It had been one thing to push aside the brief initial attraction. But with every grin, every thumbs-up over the armor cams, every sly comment over the comms meant only for him, Joker found himself silencing that same interest. 

And it didn’t help that she looked so damn good in uniform.

Kaidan looked ready to comment on Joker’s moment of silent introspection, but anything he would’ve said was interrupted by Calliope collapsing into one of the remaining two chairs at their table, red-faced and breathing heavily. Ashley managed to pull Kaidan from his drink and onto the dance floor, grabbing Garrus from the bar on their way back up. Calliope watched with a wide grin, turning to face Joker as she caught her breath. Her long hair, usually pulled back into a regulation bun, was draped over her shoulder in a loose ponytail and a few wisps were plastered on her sweat covered forehead. “Hi.”

“Don’t stop on my account.” Joker leaned back in his seat and nodded towards the dance floor. “You only looked slightly less awkward out there than Garrus does now.”

She glanced back to where the turian was trying to mirror Ashley’s movements. “I can’t keep up with her.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell.”

“Joker.” Calliope’s lips pressed into a thin frown, but the spark of excitement didn’t leave her eyes and after a moment she slipped back into a grin. “My area of dancing expertise is not--” she waved a hand towards the crowd, “-- _ this _ . It just… it feels good, you know? To get out and have a drink and just…” She trailed off, ending with a long, contented sigh.

Tucking away the knowledge that Calliope  _ did  _ have an area of dancing expertise, Joker cleared his throat and re-adjusted his hat. “ _ A  _ drink?”

She held up two fingers in response. “They’ve got this levo equivalent of some quarian drink. Too much peach.” Her nose wrinkled just a bit in disgust; when she spoke again, her voice was heavy and thoughtful. “Feros was hell. And Therum wasn’t much better. There’s no way I’m meeting with the council before getting completely shitfaced.”

The disconnect between her words and her tone would’ve been amusing, if not for her now somber expression. “What, you think it’ll be easier when they deny everything you say if you’re hungover?”

Calliope’s smile slowly returned, and she lightly tapped at one of her temples. “Biotic, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

* * *

 

The Rear Admiral called it a  _ routine inspection _ , but Joker didn’t think there was anything “routine” about ambushing the commander at such an early hour.

Joker was already up -- at Adams’ insistence -- and helping out with the pre-flight checks. “ _ You know the Commander will be in a hurry to leave after meeting with the council _ ,” he’d pointed out, “ _ and we don’t know if the maintenance techs touched something they weren’t supposed to _ .” He’d been in the middle of a conversation with Tali when the main airlock had hissed open, and Calliope began showing the rear admiral around the ship. 

She spoke slowly and deliberately, as if she expected every comment to be met with an argument, but the senior officer said nothing until they’d come back up from the cargo hold. 

Joker turned to watch over his shoulder as the rear admiral surveyed the CIC; Calliope’s jaw was set, her grey eyes hard, and he suspected the tour of the Normandy hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. 

“It’s a waste of credits,” the rear admiral finally declared. “The advantages of the stealth drive aren’t nearly enough to cover the cost. And I  _ assure  _ you, command will be hearing about your crew.” The last word was a sneer, clearly meant to be insulting, and Joker had an idea just who on the crew it was meant for.

But the commander still stood at a perfect parade rest, remaining still for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Agreed, sir. The Fifth Fleet could’ve made good use of the resources that went towards the Normandy. But this ship is an exercise in diplomacy as much as it is a prototype in combat, and as a council Spectre,” she emphasized the word  _ council _ , one eyebrow quirking upwards, “it’s my duty to play nice with the other council races.” Calliope paused, and even in the dim lighting of the bridge Joker could see the way her jaw clenched as she ground her teeth. “I would hope the Alliance appreciates that I’m out here making friends for them.”

The answer seemed to placate the rear admiral somewhat, and he eventually gave her a terse nod. “Understood, Commander. In writing my report, I’ll be sure to consider the possible advantages of such a… diplomatic venture. But when  _ making friends _ fails, an overpriced prototype won’t be what wins the war.”

As  he left, Calliope collapsed into the copilot’s chair beside Joker. “I need either alcohol or a punching bag, but you know what? I can’t have either one, because I get to go meet with the council.”

Joker typed up a quick message to Tali so she knew he’d muted the conversation for business and not just to ignore her. With a grin, he turned back to Calliope and shrugged. “Hey, just focus on  _ making friends  _ and  _ playing nice _ ,” he offered sweetly, hoping his teasing would either provoke a laugh or a rant from Calliope; both would improve her mood, and Joker was willing to sit through one of her tirades aimed at the council if it meant letting her get some of the stress off of her shoulders. 

But instead, she just sat staring at the dormant interface in front of her, a thoughtful frown slowly beginning to form. “Maybe you’re right,” she muttered, half to herself. “I need Garrus. The council likes turians. And Alenko knows when to keep his mouth shut. But if I had a salarian…”

Giving a light whistle, Joker waved a hand in front of Calliope’s still-blank stare. “Hello, earth to Shepard? A  _ salarian _ ?”

She glanced up at him and blinked. “You’re a genius. I was just pulling stuff out of my ass with Mikhailovich, but you’re right. The council’s made up of a bunch of self-interested politicians -- a little bit of ass-kissing will go a  _ long  _ way.”

“Yeah, maybe you could start with paying attention when they call.”

Calliope’s moment of revelation was broken by a lopsided grin. “You know that’s why they called me here, right? Apparently I need to be  _ fully engaged _ ,” she emphasized the words with air quotes and a roll of her eyes, “because this is  _ sensitive information _ . Something about a distress call, I think.”

“And we have to answer it?” he guessed. “Maybe it’ll be on some nice, warm planet. Somewhere that’s nothing like Noveria. You know it’s freezing there, right?”

She pulled herself up out of the copilot’s seat, pausing to lean against Joker’s headrest. “Mmm. How about this -- we save the galaxy, we’ll take a whole month of shore leave at one of those asari beach resorts.”

“Only if it includes fruity drinks and at least one massage.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

“ _ You’re in luck _ ,” was all Calliope had said after meeting with the council. Joker had needled her -- and Kaidan -- for more information as they’d walked through the Citadel, but Calliope wouldn’t budge.

Joker was leaning halfway out of his chair when they finally came back through the airlock; over the open commlink with engineering, Tali demanded an update as soon as Joker had the full story. “Unless there’s beaches, lots of sunshine, and plenty of bikinis, Tali and I are going to be disappointed. Just a heads up.”

“ _ I don’t care about the beaches _ ,” Tali piped up. “ _ The sand gets in my suit and wears out the filters. _ ”

“Beaches,” Joker repeated, “sunshine, and bikinis.”

“There  _ are  _ beaches,” Calliope began counting off on her fingers, “great weather this time of year, and a possibly-missing STG team that may or may not have information on Saren.”

“So, two out of three. Could be worse. Although I get the feeling that last bit might put a damper on our vacation time.”

“We’ll work something out.” Her voice remained even, but Calliope was clearly fighting to hold back a grin. “Set a course for Virmire.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the crew goes to virmire, some people _stay_ on virmire, and cal is good with her hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to EclipseBorn for beta reading! and apologies to her (and the rest of you) for this chapter and for calliope "literal walking disaster" shepard. 
> 
> also, re: the posting schedule -- apparently trying to coordinate between two busy people to get chapters finished is difficult. who knew. but from here on out i should be able to start posting on sundays. maybe every week, probably every other week, we'll see.

With a decent amount of the crew and the entirety of the ground squad ashore, the Normandy was oddly empty, leaving Joker alone on the bridge with a somewhat unusual view on his screens.

Calliope’s long legs stretched out over white sand, crossed at the ankle, and her feet were just inches from the clear blue water. The occasional wisp of strawberry-blonde obscured his view as the breeze tousled her hair, and every few moments he caught a glimpse of her hand as she gesticulated, emphasizing her words as she spoke.

The fact that she was in full armor definitely killed the mood.

“Hey, Commander, next time we’re at a beach, you’re letting me _leave_ the ship, right?” Joker wasn’t really _too_ upset about it; the sand was impossible to get through on crutches, and he was pretty sure he was already getting a sunburn just _thinking_ about how bright it was outside. He was definitely more the “lounging at the side of the pool” kind of guy.

“ _You do have a relief pilot, you know. And we just need someone up there keeping the engine warm so we can head out as soon as the salarians are ready._ ”

He scoffed. “You know it doesn’t work like that. The Normandy’s a warship, not a tractor.”

Joker couldn’t actually see Calliope -- besides the navy blue hard suit covering her legs -- but he could hear the grin in her voice when she replied. “ _Do I sense a thinly-veiled insult, Flight Lieutenant_?”

“Not at all. You know how highly I think of your very specific skillset. Farming is an incredibly important talent when it comes to saving the galaxy.”

“ _What_ I _know,_ ” she shot back, the view from her armor cam shifting as she leaned back, giving Joker a clear picture of the treeline and cloud-covered sky, “ _is that not ten minutes after meeting me, you cracked a joke about Alliance recruitment going up when they started using me in their ads, because everyone, and I quote, ‘loves a blonde who’s good with her hands’_.”

“In my defense, you weren’t supposed to hear that.” He paused. “But I stand by my statement.” The comment, if Joker remembered correctly, had been an aside to Alenko that was every bit the innuendo that Calliope was now suggesting. But knowing that the commander had _heard_ \-- and hadn’t said anything, and was now (albeit jokingly) holding it against him -- sent a flush of chagrin through him.

But to his surprise, Calliope simply gave a thoughtful _hmm_. “ _Never had a thing for blondes_.”

He managed to hold back a quip of _Well, I do_ ; he didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken.

Or maybe he did. It was hard to tell, when the conversation-in-question was with his commanding officer.

Either way, Calliope stood and began calling out orders as the salarian in charge -- _Kirrahe?_ \-- approached her. Joker couldn’t make out what the captain was saying, and Calliope’s short answers weren’t helping with the context either.

“What’s the situation down there?” he asked, switching to Ashley’s comm and pulling up the feed from her armor cam; he replaced it with Kaidan’s almost immediately once he realized Ashley was still pacing. From the lieutenant’s cam, Joker had a good view of both Calliope and Kirrahe, and watched as the salarian gestured back towards Wrex.

“ _Complicated_ ,” Ashley sighed, the word tinged with frustration. “ _Wrex is making the salarians nervous. Hell, he’s making_ me _nervous._ ”

Joker could just make out Ashley at the very edge of Kaidan’s armor cam; she crossed her arms, glaring out towards Wrex. “Shepard probably has something planned. Do me a favor and make sure the plan isn’t _send the krogan back to the ship_.”

“ _Nah. Kirrahe wants her to talk to him. And you know Shepard -- she can talk anyone down if she puts her mind to it._ ”

“Normally I’d agree, but Wrex looks ready to let his shotgun hold the conversation for him.”

Ashley snorted. “ _He always looks like that_.”

Their conversation came to a halt as Calliope turned from the salarian and approached Ashley and Kaidan; true to form, she already had a plan in mind for Wrex. “ _I’m gonna go talk to him. Williams, keep an eye out_.” She began to walk away, then hesitated and turned back. “ _Look, don’t get twitchy. I’d be surprised if he_ doesn’t _pull a gun on me, just-- Don’t let it go any further, okay_?”

Ashley gave a sharp “ _Aye, aye, Commander_ ,” at the same time that Joker sputtered out a protest. “Yeah, Commander, _great_ plan. Let’s just walk up and start arguing with the pissed off krogan with a shotgun.” He managed to hide his more genuine concern, but there was still an edge to his voice, more mocking and hard than he’d intended.

He trusted Calliope. She could take care of herself. But there was a difference in facing geth that didn’t stand a chance against her biotics, and going toe-to-toe with a krogan that had been fighting alongside her for the past four months. Wrex _knew_ her, knew how she fought and knew her strengths and her weaknesses. She sacrificed armor for mobility, she wasn’t comfortable using biotics at close range, and she was still nursing a not-quite-healed injury from Feros -- hell, _Joker_ knew these things and he didn’t spend any time fighting beside her.

Plus, he was pretty sure Calliope and Wrex didn’t share the same reservations about shooting down a friend.

Or _crew member_ , at the very least.

“ _I’ll be fine_ ,” Calliope assured him. “ _I’m pretty sure I’ve had more dangerous arguments than this_.”

“Yeah, well, just remember -- fate of the galaxy, and all that.” Joker slumped down in his seat, muting the comms before he said anything further. He watched the rest of their conversation in silence, still getting the feed from Alenko’s cam that showed Calliope and Ashley, both with grim expressions.

As Calliope began to walk away, Joker sighed and switched to her armor cam before opening up a link to her comm. “Hey, Shepard?”

“ _I’ll be fine_ ,” she said again, and he wondered if he was imagining the softness and sincerity in her tone that time.

* * *

 

Joker nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard gunfire; he flipped through the feeds from the armor, and by the time he had a clear view of the situation -- courtesy of Garrus’ cam -- it had registered that were _two_ shots. In addition to the shotgun he’d been hoping _not_ to hear, there was the thunderous crack of a sniper rifle.

Calliope looked winded but very much alive, and a quick glance up at the readout from her life support systems confirmed that her shields had absorbed a heavy shot. Joker couldn’t see Wrex, but by the sudden flurry of movement around the STG camp and the various calls for Chakwas, he guessed the krogan was lying just below the armor cam’s field of vision.

_Better him than Shepard_ , his mind supplied automatically, but the thought felt wrong and he pushed it away.

Joker managed to bite back how shaken he was at the whole ordeal, and when he spoke his voice was even. “Let’s save the rest for the bad guys, okay, Commander?”

The attempt at levity fell flat, and he caught a glimpse of Calliope through the vid feed, jaw clenching as she stared out over the water, and she offered no response.

* * *

 

Cal lined up shot after shot, throwing out singularities and biotic fields whenever her sniper rifle threatened to overheat. There seemed to be no end to the geth, even with Kirrahe’s teams as distractions.  

“Keep ‘em off me!” She spared a single glance back at Garrus before breaking cover and darting forward. Her shields took a few hits, and with a grunt of exhaustion Cal mustered up just enough biotic energy to cover herself in a thin barrier. A few well-placed shots from her pistol cleared the walkway just long enough for her to scan the treeline, searching for equipment that they hadn’t yet found in the compound.

_There_.

A comm tower, near the top of the outpost they were making their way towards. Cal pressed back against the wall in an attempt to stay out of sight, and let out a slow breath of relief; _something_ about this mission was finally going right.

_A single geth unit shares processes with all others in range_ , Tali had told her. _Essentially, they get smarter in groups_. The full technical explanation was way over Cal’s head -- and her pay grade -- but the important lesson was that if she could cripple the geth communications, they’d be facing small isolated groups of less dangerous geth rather than a unified force.

Cal leaned to her right, out past the edge of the wall, and poured all her energy into her biotics -- _fuck_ , she was tired -- and _pulled_ , wrenching the tower from its base. It sparked and groaned before snapping free, flying backwards and landing behind them with a splash.

On a good day, she might’ve managed that with some finesse. Today, though, she was already beginning to sway on her feet; Cal wasn’t usually one to rely on her biotics, not when she had a more reliable and less exhausting alternative, but between the winding landscape and the sheer numbers of the geth, it was proving near impossible to line up shots with her rifle. They needed to take a breather, a break just long enough that Cal could have one of the concentrated energy drinks she kept clipped to her belt.

There was nothing in the galaxy that sounded better than a nap and the syrupy sweet pseudo-grape flavor of standard issue energy drinks.

But there wasn’t time, so Cal settled for re-adjusting her grip on her rifle and giving a thumbs-up to Garrus and Liara -- in view of her armor cam, in case Joker was watching -- and led the team across the walkway. They were finally in view of the compound proper, and it would only take one last push to get past the remaining geth and into the main building.

“Williams, Alenko,” she snapped into her comm, hoping to hide the exhaustion in her voice with some semblance of command, “how’s it look on your end?”

“ _We’re facing heavy resistance, Commander_ ,” Ashley reported, her breathing labored. “ _But only one casualty so far. This is a good team, Shepard, we can hold out_.”

“How’s the bomb coming along, Lieutenant?”

There was silence for a moment before Kaidan answered. “ _We’re in position, but we’re dealing with geth on one side and krogan on the other. We’re holding, but we’ll need backup before we can set the bomb up._ ”

“Understood. We’ll head your way next. Joker, you’d better be at the rendezvous on time.”

“ _Right back atcha, Commander_.”

* * *

 

_The cycle cannot be broken._

_You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it._

The words seeped into Cal’s bones and left her chilled despite the heat of Virmire and the sweat and seawater that soaked her hardsuit. The images from the beacon flashed through her mind, and it was only Joker’s voice over the comms that pulled her back into the present.

But even as she moved back through the compound, Sovereign’s words still echoed in her mind.

* * *

 

Calliope didn’t have a voice that _broke_.

Her voice was strong and clear and firm. It rang out across the battlefield as easily as through the CIC or over comms. It was mesmerizing as she told vivid tales from her childhood and intoxicating as she sang to herself while driving the mako.

It didn’t _break_. Not until she gave the order for Joker to double back and meet them at an alternate extraction point.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she said, and the waver in her tone chilled Joker almost as much as watching the life support systems on Alenko’s hardsuit go dark.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which cal gets drunk, joker watches mission impossible, and cal likes him for more than just his ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to EclipseBorn for beta reading and allowing me to ruin her day with sad shoker headcanons

“Fascinating.”

“You know,” Garrus commented dryly, “if there’s _one_ thing I’ve picked up while on the Normandy, it’s how to catch human sarcasm.”

“Great. Then you know how absolutely _riveted_ by this conversation I am.” Slouching down in his seat, Joker rested his chin in one hand and reached up with the other to swipe through the results of the various diagnostic tests he’d been running. “So Shepard shot up an office building -- I _know_. I saw the whole thing.” He gestured up to one of the blank screens, where the feed from the armor cams usually was; with the Normandy finally docked at Port Hanshan -- after no small amount of trouble -- and the ground team taking the rest of the night off, there was little for Joker to actually monitor, besides a few tests that could have easily been left for the pre-flight check.

He was just keeping himself busy, at that point. Better than dealing with Virmire.

He assumed that’s what Calliope was doing, too -- avoiding Virmire -- by threatening the security chief and arguing with bureaucrats and rushing biotics-first into a guarded office. Joker knew she wasn’t the sort to shy away from a more… _direct_ approach, but they way she was storming through Port Hanshan was too severe to be considered normal, even for Shepard.

So maybe Garrus had a valid reason to be concerned about the commander’s behavior. It was still completely justified; they were all handling Virmire -- or _avoiding_ handling it -- in their own ways, and Calliope’s was just a bit… violent.

“I just think you should go talk to her,” Garrus suggested. “She’s not -- what’s the phrase? -- she doesn’t have her head on straight, and I can’t get through to her. Tali can’t either, and I’m not asking Williams to help out with this. I could go to Doctor Chakwas, I guess, but--”

“Why?” Joker interrupted sharply. “Maybe she doesn’t need anyone to talk to her. Maybe she really does just need to get drunk and forget it,” he argued, blurting out the first excuse his mind provided. In truth, he was as concerned about Calliope as Garrus seemed to be, but talking to her about Virmire meant forcing _himself_ to come to terms with it, and he wasn’t quite ready for that.

Besides, what was he supposed to say to Calliope? _Sorry you gave orders that got two of your crew killed. Better luck next time!_

He suspected that would go over _really_ well.

Joker did eventually give in to Garrus’ insistence, though he had to admit he was nearly as concerned about Calliope as Garrus seemed to be -- just less outspoken about it. Still, it was with some reluctance that he finally admitted to himself that _maybe_ Garrus had been right, and Calliope _did_ need someone to talk to her; she was seated at the hotel bar, nursing something that was definitely not one of the fruity mixed drinks he knew she typically preferred.

She barely looked up as he sat beside her, propping his crutches up against the bar near him. “Pressly said you were headed down,” she muttered, less of a slur to her words than Joker had been expecting. “S’good. You deserve a night off.”

“Yeah.” Not quite ready to talk, Joker ordered a beer for himself; this wasn’t a conversation he was going to have without a drink of his own. They sat in silence as he drank, grip tight on the bottle as he steeled himself. “So, uh, Commander. Ma’am.” Formality seemed pointless, but Joker chose to play it safe for once. “About Virmire.”

“I don’t have an answer.” Calliope took a long drink before setting her half-empty glass down with more force than necessary. “On Torfan it was bad fucking intel. I sent half my squad to be killed, ‘cause why? I don’t know. Was the best choice with what I knew. Now?” She took another drink. “Wish I had a goddamn answer.”

Joker watched as she ground her teeth together, her jaw tensing in fury. He’d seen her pissed off before, but this was… different. Raw. “I, uh, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to even make that choice.” He tacked on a half-hearted _ma’am_ , but doubted Calliope even noticed.

“People die--” she paused, long enough that Joker wondered whether there was more to the statement, then continued, “--if I don’t make those calls. _More_ people,” she amended. “People die either way. Fucking reapers.”

For once, _reapers_ were the easier topic of conversation. But Calliope had mentioned Torfan, and Joker couldn’t help but wonder if her far off, hazy-eyed stare came from reliving deaths that had happened long before she’d ever stepped foot on Virmire. “What happened?” he asked, half to himself, not expecting Calliope to answer.

Torfan was the Alliance’s worst kept secret. The operation itself, meant to drive out batarians in retaliation for an earlier attack, was hardly classified information; but the details of what exactly had happened down within the pirates’ underground bunkers hadn’t ever been released. The commander had been there, and she’d _returned_ , and that was more than most involved with Torfan could say.

With one long swig, Calliope downed the rest of her drink and rested her arms on the bar, burying her face as she spoke. “They surrendered. We weren’t told, and it was more important to finish the mission. We took-- we lost so many people. It wasn’t worth it. And if I’d known they’d surrendered, and we didn’t have to go rushing back in there...” She tilted her head to the side, looking up at Joker. “D’you know how hard a cornered batarian fights?”

“Pretty damn hard, sounds like.” He found himself wishing he’d ordered something stronger.

“I give orders and people die,” she said, repeating her earlier words with a little less finesse. “Just… sucks knowing it.”

“Hey,” Joker offered weakly, “you give plenty of orders that save people, too.”

Calliope was silent for a moment, simply watching him with her head still resting on her arms. The corner of her mouth curled upwards into the barest hint of a tired smile, and she nudged his seat with one foot. “See? S’why you’re my favorite.” She made a contented little humming noise. “Optimism.”

Joker laughed at that -- both in amusement, and in relief that they were no longer discussing Calliope’s perceived failures. “You’ve been drinking, Commander. I’m _not_ an optimist.” He held on to the comment about being her favorite; drunk or not, he’d take the compliment.

“Mmm. Still my favorite.”

There was something about the sight of his commander sitting there in front of him with a crooked grin and a lopsided ponytail, wearing an oversized Alliance sweatshirt and resting her head on the bar. It was… well, it was cute.

The compliments helped.

“I know you just like me for my ship, Commander,” he teased, brushing off both Calliope’s words and his own feelings in an attempt to fall back into more comfortable banter.

“ _Noooo_ ,” she protested, drawing the word out into several syllables. “I like you just fine. The ship helps. She’s a good ship,” Calliope said matter-of-factly, pointing off in the direction of the docking bays.

“She is.”

“I’m drunk.”

“You are.”

“Being sober is the fucking worst right now.” She leaned in as she spoke, like she was sharing some sort of secret despite her voice remaining level. Instead of pulling away, Calliope reached over to pat Joker’s cheek, her hand lingering for a moment; at first, Joker was too stunned to move away, but after a moment decided he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Not that the touch meant anything. Calliope was the sort to declare her love to anyone within earshot when she was drunk; if he waited long enough, Joker was sure he’d be on the receiving end of a similar confession.

“Commander.” He reached up and lightly grabbed her wrist, tugging her hand away. “Not that this isn’t _loads_ of fun, but maybe you should go sleep off… everything.”

“ _Ha!_ ” In a slow, sloppy movement, Calliope twisted her wrist in a poorly executed self-defense maneuver, freeing herself from Joker’s already loose grasp. “You have a _point_ ,” she enunciated the word carefully, “Flight Lieutenant. We’ve had a hell of a week, hmm? Gotta lot to sleep off.”

Joker forced a sympathetic smile; it _had_ been a hell of a week, and no one deserved the rest more than Calliope. Not that she would actually _get_ it, since she was supposed to be heading out ridiculously early the next morning. “Should I call Tali, or can you find your own way up to your room?”

“I can get back by myself.” With a slow grin, Calliope left and sauntered off towards the elevators, her steps slow and uneven.

He called Tali anyway.

* * *

 

“The _corporate suite_ thing is actually pretty nice.” Joker leaned back and settled into the couch, scrolling through on his omni-tool as he searched for something to watch on the vid-screen.

After their rough first day on Noveria, Shepard, Liara, and whoever else she chose for the ground team would be setting out to Benezia’s science base later that morning. Joker -- and Garrus, judging by the fact that he wasn’t in armor and his sniper rifle was still in pieces on the coffee table -- would have the length of the mission to relax in one of Port Hanshan’s roomy suites, courtesy of Lorik Qui’in.

Still searching for something to watch, Joker selected some old spy vid Calliope had told him about before. “Hey, have you seen this? Apparently it’s Shepard’s favorite.” He frowned as he read through the description, utterly unimpressed. “Kinda looks like crap.” Still, he selected the movie, and the fast-paced theme song filled the room.

“I’m surprised you haven’t left for the Normandy yet,” Garrus commented as he sat on the far side of the couch, setting his coffee down amongst the parts of his rifle. “If you don’t obsessively monitor the mission, who will?”

“First off, I still have a comm channel open if Shepard needs me. Second off, Moreno’s got it covered today. And third, the storm’s too bad for a signal once they get past the garage, anyway.” He wasn’t about to admit to already being more than a bit agitated at the situation; while it was typically his job to monitor things like the armor cams and life support during missions, he couldn’t do anything without a signal, and the weather currently made that difficult.

Even if there _were_ some sort of emergency, and Shepard did somehow send a message, Lieutenant Moreno -- the Normandy’s new XO, a biotic who’d been brought aboard after Calliope had taken over for Anderson -- was still on the ship.

“And I don’t _obsess_ ,” he added after a moment, unable to overlook Garrus’ choice of words. “I do my job, and I’m good at it.”

“You’re right, sorry.” His mandibles fluttered in a way that Joker suspected was the turian equivalent of a grin; regardless, the sarcasm in his voice was impossible to miss. “Speaking of completely rational actions in relation to Shepard -- how’d the talk go last night?”

Joker’s mind immediately jumped to the end of his conversation with Calliope the night before, and he was torn between surprise that Garrus knew and a slight agitation that he was pressing for details. “What do you mean?”

“About Virmire. She wasn’t that drunk already, was she?”

“ _Oh_. Right, Virmire. Yeah, no.” He pressed his lips together, staring blankly at the movie’s intro still playing on the vid-screen; it didn’t feel right to just relay everything he and Calliope had talked about the night before, but he knew Garrus was asking more out of concern than a desire to gossip. “It wasn’t the most productive talk. Not about Virmire, at least. She… she had some other shit to get off her shoulders, first.”

Garrus was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was filled with worry. “Feros, still?”

“Torfan.”

“Ah.” Another beat of silence. “I heard about that mission, back when I was with C-Sec. I remember thinking she’d make a good turian.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think she’d take that as a compliment.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **update 16. march:** due to an unforeseen series of events, i currently have no device on which to write other than my phone. As soon as I get this figured out I'll post chapter four, then we can go back to Sunday updates


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which joker is in denial, the rachni are fucking creepy, and everybody only has one living parent now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm back, after an incident where my laptop died on me, and then andromeda came out and, well. i may have taken a brief break from this fic to write upwards of 10k words of mea fic before even finishing the game.
> 
> i'll be posting new chapters every other sunday until i get all the reyes fic out of my system and can get back to focusing on these nerds. as always, thanks to EclipseBorn for being my mass effect fic enabler

 “Two pair.” Cal placed her cards -- real, physical playing cards, a necessity on potentially long missions where every minute of an omni-tool’s charge could be vital -- on the floor of the tram.

“Full house,” Tali countered, placing her cards beside Cal’s.

“Damn. I thought I was set with my queens.” Frowning, Cal gathered up the cards and began shuffling. Poker with a quarian wasn’t really _fair_ , not with their mostly opaque masks; learning Tali’s tells was proving even more difficult than learning Garrus’ had been. “Sure you don’t want me to deal you in, Liara? We’re not even playing with real credits.”

Liara, who was currently the only one still sitting on the tram’s seats, turned from the window with a somewhat startled expression. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Cal gave her an encouraging smile. “I was _saying_ you should join us. It’ll do you good to get your mind off all this shit.” She held up the deck and gave it a little wave. “C’mon, Doctor T’soni,” she crooned.

“Apologies, Commander, but I don’t think I could focus on a game at the moment.”

“Alright.” Tucking the deck away, Cal pulled herself up onto a seat beside Liara. The ride to Peak 15 had already taken the better part of an hour, and they were barely halfway there; she wasn’t going to sit by and let Liara worry alone. Distracting her hadn’t worked, but perhaps something more direct _would_. “Talk to me, then. Tell me about Benezia. Did she make you pancakes every Sunday morning? Read you cute little prothean bedtime stories?”

Liara’s melancholic stare was broken with momentary confusion. “Pancakes?” she repeated slowly.

“It’s a human food. Sort of… a delicacy. Not the point.”

She sighed, pulling her feet up onto the tram seat and hugging her knees to her chest; she looked _young_ , and for the first time since rescuing her from the prothean energy trap, Cal caught a glimpse of the young woman -- practically a teenager, as Liara had said once before -- beneath all the schooling and research and prothean knowledge. “I… When I was a child,” she began slowly, “I looked up to her. I completely idolized her. She was everything I wanted to be when I grew up.”

“Yeah.” Cal thought back to Mindoir, to the years before her family had been torn apart. In the Olson-Shepard household, not a day had gone by when Cal hadn’t trailed after one of her fathers, doing her best to imitate them; she’d reached a point, as a teen, where the imitation had become an honest attempt at learning. But then the slavers had hit, and her entire life changed direction. “When I was little, I used to tell people I was an ‘agricultural engineer’ for the Alliance, because that’s what one of my dads did. I was too young to know that it’s just a farmer with more paperwork, but I just thought it was the coolest thing, because that’s what he did.”

Liara gave a shaky laugh. “I’ve… never wanted to follow in Benezia’s footsteps, not like that. I’ve always wanted to go digging for artifacts.” She paused, a soft smile begin to form as some of her tension visibly melted away. “She scolded me for ruining the landscaping, of course, but she was supportive.”

“My father was… supportive, as well,” Tali chimed in, voice thoughtful, from where she still sat on the floor of the tram. “There was a lot of pressure on me, because of his station on the Fleet. There _still_ is, though I suppose that’s more from the pilgrimage, now.”

“What did the two of you do for fun?” Cal prompted, hoping to steer the conversation back to something light-hearted. “On Mindoir, we had a fire pit out back, and we’d go out there at night and roast marshmallows and watch the fireflies -- and I have no idea how much of that will make sense to either of you, but trust me, ten year old Cal _lived_ for those nights.”

Frowning in thought, Liara was quiet for a moment before she answered. “There was a park, near our home in Armali where I grew up. I couldn’t count how many peaceful afternoons we spent there.”

Cal listened intently as Liara detailed pieces of her childhood, both she and Tali offering the occasional anecdote. It wasn’t going to be easy, facing down the mother of someone she now considered a friend, but with every story told Cal was becoming more confident that they could work out some sort of solution that _didn’t_ end in Benezia’s death.

Simply talking her down would be the ideal course of action, but Cal knew it wouldn’t ever work out so nicely. But taking Benezia into Alliance custody? Or Council custody, under her Spectre authority? There was a good chance they could take Benezia back to the Citadel and deal with Saren and maybe -- _maybe_ \-- finish the mission without taking away the only parent who’d played a prominent role in Liara’s life.

* * *

  
 

To Joker’s credit, he made it through the entire vid before muttering some excuse to Garrus and heading back to the Normandy. He _knew_ there wouldn’t be any mission updates, not with the storm effectively cutting off communications from the valley where Peak 15 was located, but _still_ \-- three hours of sitting around waiting for Shepard to return was making him restless.

Corporal Lowe, one of the bridge techs and the relief pilot, greeted Joker as he came through the main airlock. “Moreno’s in the comm room,” she informed him. “Been on call with the C-Sec director for half an hour, at least. Something about the Commander’s last update has her spooked.”

“The Commander’s _last_ update?” he echoed, doing his best not to scowl. “How many have there been?”

“Just two, that I know of.” Lowe turned back to her terminal, giving a little shrug.

With an exasperated sigh, Joker made his way through the CIC towards the comm room. He and the lieutenant didn’t really get along on the best of days -- she talked too much, and lacked Calliope’s charm -- so he wasn’t expecting anything good to come from confronting her.

When he entered the comm room, Joker found Lieutenant Moreno in the middle of a vid call with Executor Pallin, just as Lowe had said. He took a seat near the door and cleared his throat to announce his otherwise-unnoticed arrival, cutting off Moreno’s argument about gaining access to some sort of information. “Hey, Lieutenant,” he greeted, voice chipper. “I just found out about some mission updates you didn’t tell me about, and I’d _really_ love the full story.”

Moreno closed her eyes for a moment, doing an impressive job of remaining calm. “I apologize for taking up your time, Executor. It seems I have some pressing duties of my own to attend to.”

The turian on the holo crossed his arms. “Understood. And please, Lieutenant, don’t try to waste my time with any more requests. If a Spectre needs information, they -- and the Council -- can take it up with me. Not you.” His image blinked out, leaving only the static image of the idling vid comm.

With a sigh, Moreno pinched at the bridge of her nose. “Yes. Commander Shepard sent a message shortly after leaving, and we received a text transmission about fifteen minutes ago confirming that they’ve reached Peak 15. The signal is too weak for any other communication.” She stood up straight and turned to face Joker. “I had no reason to alert you, Flight Lieutenant. Besides, you were given shore leave for twenty-four hours or the duration of the mission.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am, I’ll get _right_ on that -- relaxing while the Commander is out there with no comms and minimal backup. Especially now that I know I won’t be getting any updates.” He rolled his eyes; Moreno reminded him more of a shrink than a commanding officer, sometimes, with the soft, measured way she tended to speak.

“Shepard’s been through far worse.”

“Right, right, there was that one time on that one planet where it was cold as balls and you all got frostbite together,” he snapped, the carefree facade cracking just a bit, and he took a slow breath and forced a lighter tone before speaking again. “When Shepard’s going through shit, it’s really not helpful when you remind everyone that it’s not the _worst_ shit she’s been through.”

Maybe it was helpful, to some -- he knew Garrus appreciated the stories, and Calliope’s own motivation often came from some of her prior successes -- but for Joker, it just reminded him of seeing the Commander broken down at the bar the previous night, reliving the horrors and disasters that some of her missions had been.

“Xawin,” Moreno said quietly, breaking up the silence.

“What?”

“Xawin,” she repeated. “It was --- as you put it -- cold as balls. Sixteen minutes and your envirosuit begins to fail. Eighteen minutes, and you’re dead. We ran an extraction mission there a few years back. Before this, it was the last time I served with her. It was her last mission before Torfan.”

It took a moment for Joker to process the information, and he felt his aggravation slowly bleed into curiosity. “You knew her, after Torfan.” _Of course she did_ , he reminded himself, _they went through the N7 program together_. Still, it hadn’t been until that moment that he’d put two and two together.

Moreno looked down, tucking a few stray curls behind her ear. “I knew her back on Mindoir. By the time Torfan happened, I… Well, I’d already had some practice helping her to put a drink down.” She paused. “Thank you. For last night. I didn’t realize how bad it was, but maybe it was better that you’re the one that talked to her.”

Joker shrugged, so caught off-guard by the new knowledge that Shepard and Moreno’s friendship started long before the N7 program that he almost missed the end of Moreno’s statement. “Yeah, well, she better not make it a habit. I don’t usually go to a bar to talk people _out_ of drinking.”

“She _listens_ to you,” Moreno pointed out, none of the sincerity leaving her voice despite Joker’s light comment. “Cal values what you say -- however questionable the rest of us may find it.”

He shrugged again, pulling himself to his feet; it was definitely time to make an exit, especially if Moreno was going to keep up her current train of thought. “Yeah, well,  you know, no one wants to piss off their pilot.”

Maybe Calliope’s brief display of affection the night before _had_ been more than just the alcohol talking. Joker wasn’t going to get his hopes up too much, but it was nice to consider.

_You’re my favorite_ , she’d said, and the thought was enough to lighten Joker’s mood as he made his way back through the Normandy, and not even Lowe’s quip about looking _unreasonably cheery_ deterred him.

* * *

 

It felt like an intrusion, standing in the labs and watching as Liara crumpled to the ground beside Benezia, pleading with her mother and guiding her through her last moments. Cal couldn’t really give them any privacy, not without completely disregarding Liara’s safety, so instead she joined Tali at the far end of the platform near where the rachni queen was being held.

“What now?”

Tali looked up in answer, pointing to a complicated vat system that drained down into the rachni’s tank. “Acid,” she said in explanation. “Between this and the irradiation bomb, I’m guessing these scientists had a good idea of what would happen if the rachni got loose. I’ve only heard stories, but…” She paused, shifting her weight. “Can we take that sort of risk?”

Cal pursed her lips, staring down the creature in the tank. She knew the stories, too, of how the rachni tore through the galaxy until the krogan stopped them -- and the ensuing shitstorm _that_ had brought on -- but she didn’t like the idea of being judge, jury, and executioner. “You’re thinking about the geth,” she guessed.

“If I had the chance to eliminate the geth from the galaxy with the push of a button…” Tali trailed off, but her quiet tone confirmed Cal’s suspicions.

People _died_ when Cal made decisions like this -- people died either way, and it was up to her to ensure that number stayed as small as possible.

Still. It was small-scale genocide.

“You’re right, but--”

She was interrupted by a sudden cry of surprise, and turned back -- pistol already in hand -- to find Liara scrambling backwards from Benezia, her hands clamped over her mouth in horror. Benezia was rising to her feet, eyes empty and sightless and her movements stilted and unnatural; she turned to face Cal and Tali, blood still coating the front of her gown. Instinctively, Cal fired off two shots but Benezia continued to shamble forward, unaffected. Behind them, the rachni shrieked, and Cal glanced back while keeping her pistol trained on the asari.

“We… wish to speak,” Benezia said slowly, the words as unnatural as her movements. “We are… the queen. We use this one as… a vessel, as her song is ending.”

Memories of the thorian flashed unbidden through Cal’s mind; she looked past Benezia to Liara -- still on the floor, eyes wide with shock and pain -- and took a step back. “No deal.” Holstering her pistol, Cal reached out with her biotics, thrusting a wave of biotic energy at Benezia that sent her flying across the lab. The rachni shrieked again, and Cal keyed in the command for the acid vats. The shrieking grew louder, and she ground her teeth together as she turned away.

As the lab grew silent once again, Cal reached a hand down to Liara and helped her to her feet. “Come on. It’s a long ride back.”

 


End file.
